Midnight Fantasies
by EverTheDreamer
Summary: "Why is it ya always get so agitated when it rains at nigh', love?" Mrs. Lovett asked. Sweeney surprised even himself by answering, "Lucy." Sweenett. Revival Verse. Based on Patti LuPone's Mrs. Lovett from the 2005 Broadway Revival.
1. Chapter 1

Mrs. Lovett stared out the dust-stained window of her pie shop as she listened to her tenet's pacing upstairs. His footsteps seemed to match the patter of the rain that hit her window.

He got like this every time it rained. Back and forth three times or so before stopping at the window. Then he'd start again.

She asked him why so many times before, but he never answered. He would always just stare at her with those piercing eyes of his until she backed towards the door and back into the rain.

Against her better judgment, Mrs. Lovett picked up two glasses from the shelf and the bottle of gin next to them before walking out into the rain to climb the stairs.

"Mr. Todd?" Mrs. Lovett asked, opening the door to his shop. "Mr. Todd, I brough' ya a nice tot o' gin. I figured maybe ya could use a drink."

Sweeney Todd stopped his pacing and looked at Mrs. Lovett, the woman that always seemed to be interrupting his thoughts. **Insufferable woman**_,_ he thought with a feral growl.

Mrs. Lovett shivered, whether from her rain-soaked dress or the look that Sweeney was now fixing her with, she couldn't be sure. She quickly composed herself and stepped closer to the barber, "A drink, Mr. T?"

He crossed the room and grabbed the bottle from her, ignoring the glass she had brought, and took a swig as if to say, "Happy?" The liquid burned as it went down his throat but he shook it off.

"Why is it ya always get so agitated when it rains at nigh', love?" Mrs. Lovett asked, three-quarters of a bottle later.

Sweeney was back at the window, the gin in his hand, staring out at the dark, rain-covered streets. He surprised even himself by answering. "Lucy," he answered simply.

"Wot abou' your Lucy?" Mrs. Lovett asked, standing behind him, her fingers itching to make contact with any part of him.

"It was the last time I held her in my arms. The last time I made love to her, the last time I kissed her… It had been raining that night.

"The rain," he remembered, "made her crystal blue eyes shine and her pale, beautiful skin glisten. It made her look even more like the angel she was. She loved the rain… She said it washed everything away and brought life. And her eyes…"

Mrs. Lovett gave in to her desires as she wrapped her arms around his waist and put her chin on his shoulder. "Let me 'elp, love. I can be 'er for you." She kissed a sensitive spot on his neck.

Sweeney didn't push Mrs. Lovett away. He wanted to- **How dare she think she could be Lucy?!**_-_, but he couldn't. His eyes fluttered close and he tried to remember the soft kisses his Lucy had graced him with. "Lucy," he breathed as Mrs. Lovett placed another gentle kiss just below his earlobe.

"Tell your Lucy wot chu want," Mrs. Lovett purred into Sweeney's ear, her fingers tracing patterns along his chest.

Sweeney turned around and captured Mrs. Lovett's soft lips in a kiss as he pulled her to him. She- _Finally!-_ ran her fingers through that black mane of his as she kissed him back hungrily.

Lucy," Sweeney breathed, breaking the kiss. "Lucy, I love you."

"I love you, Benjamin. You know that. You know your Lucy loves you," Mrs. Lovett answered, knowing his drunken state had transformed her into Lucy for him. This isn't what you want, Nellie. You want him to be with you. Not with you as Lucy_. _She ignored the little voice in the back of her mind. _It doesn't matter_, she told it firmly. _Not when I'm so close to my dream of so long coming true. Not when he's holding me in his arms. Not when he's just kissed me like that._ "Benjamin, dear, let's make love." she pressed herself against him, fiddling with his trousers as she leaned in for another kiss.

"Lucy!" a shocked Sweeney cried, pulling away. "What of Johanna?" He pointed to the remains of the termite-eaten crib in the corner.

Mrs. Lovett looked at the crib as well before shrugging, "She's sleeping, love. Now then…" She began fiddling with his belt once more.

"Lucy! This is so unlike you!"

"I-I've just never wanted to so much, Benjamin," Mrs. Lovett responded. "I just love you so much and I want to feel close to you."

"Of course, Lucy. I love you, too." He kissed her gently and let her unbutton his belt.

It felt like forever to Mrs. Lovett before Sweeney had removed her skirts and corset and had his hands on her bare skin. His touch sent a wildfire through her and she decided there was but one way to put it out. She forced him into his barber chair before settling herself on his lap and crushing his mouth in a hungry kiss. "Come on, love. I wanna take ya for a ride," she breathed into his ear.

Sweeney blushed. "Lucy! I've never heard you say such things!"

"I want you to do something for me," Mrs. Lovett asked, ignoring his blush.

"Anything, Lucy, dearest."

"Good. Touch this," Mrs. Lovett placed his hands on her breasts.

Sweeney gasped, pulling her hands back. "Lucy!"

"Come on, love. I want you. Inside me." Mrs. Lovett used Sweeney's shoulders as support as she readjusted herself so he was at her entrance.

"Don't you want me, love?" Mrs. Lovett pouted, she kissed the sensitive spot on his neck again.

"More than anything, Lucy," Sweeney answered lovingly.

"Well, I'm 'ere and yours for the taking."

Sweeney tentatively squeezed her breasts his eyes on hers.

Mrs. Lovett sighed inwardly before nipping slightly at Sweeney's ear making him jump suddenly and slide into her.

"That's it, love. There you go. 'Ow 'bou' a littl' more, pet?" Mrs. Lovetts eased forward until she had taken all of him in, hissing quietly as she adjusted to his size. She claimed his mouth in a passionate kiss, riding him slowly.

"Lucy," Sweeney groaned against her kiss. He broke away and nipped at Mrs. Lovett's breasts before roughly grabbing her backside. "Mrs. Lovett…"

__

Bugger

. You deserve as much. You ought to know better. You ought _Shut up!_

"Mr. Todd!" Mrs. Lovett began to disentangle herself and backed away, looking down guiltily. "I'm so sorry! I jus' wanted to 'elp is all. I figured you 'adn't been with a woman since your Lucy and you 'ave needs, Mr. Todd. And I figured it you thought I was 'er, it might not upset you so much, Mr. T," she prattled, backing away. Before she knew it, she had hit the wall.

"Mrs. Lovett, you're a bloody wonder," Sweeney growled. "Eminently practical and yet appropriate as always…"

And yet even he couldn't deny her point… or his still-present erection.

"Please, Mr. T, don't be upset!" Mrs. Lovett pleaded as he stepped closer. "Please!" She gasped when Sweeney grabbed her thigh and entering her.

He went slowly at first, as though mocking what she had tried to do. Then he began going much faster, plunging much deeper and causing Mrs. Lovett to cry out.

"Mr. T! Oh, God!" Mrs. Lovett threw her head back, digging her nails into his back. "Mmnnn… Mister Todd!"

Sweeney crushed her mouth in a kiss as his hands found her breasts. He groped earnestly as he reached a shuddering climax.

"Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett panted, her hands still on his shoulders. Her toes barely touched the wood floor and he was all that was keeping her upright.

Sweeney had stopped moving and was staring at the wall, so lost in thought he was.

"Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett repeated, her breathing returning to normal as Sweeney pulled out of her and went to sit in his chair. "Mr. T? Are… Are ya mad at me?"

Sweeney didn't answer and, instead, resumed his watching the storm.

Feeling very cold and empty, Mrs. Lovett gathered her skirts and corset and pulled on enough clothes to walk back into the rain and down the stairs. "I'll see ya at breakfast, love," she whispered before the tinkling bell told Sweeney she had departed.

Try as he might, though, Sweeney Todd couldn't deny that Mrs. Lovett had awoken something in him.

He couldn't get the memory of a naked Mrs. Lovett- pinned against the wall and moaning his name- out of his mind.

And she **hadsaid she was his for the taking…**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Bold is Sweeney's thoughts. Italics, Mrs. Lovetts. And underlined italics are her voice of reason that she just HATES to listen to! (I've had many complaints about the thoughts being not all in italics. I want to explain that I do that so its clear exactly WHO is thinking.)  
xoxo, lyss

It didn't rain again for over a fortnight.

Mrs. Lovett had lain in bed every night since the storm listening to the barber's pacing above her. Closing her eyes, she'd focus on the memory, determined to remember every detail as she relived it in her mind.

_His body, click with sweat, against me own…His hand at the crook of me knee, clutching me to him…His breath hot on my neck…_

Mrs. Lovett shuddered, her breathing already labored.

When it finally rained again, Mrs. Lovett could practically hear her body crying out for her beloved Mr. Todd more than any of the other nights combined.

_This, _Mrs. Lovett realized, _must be how he feels, aching for his "precious Lucy."_

She could almost feel the ghost of his lips on her own, his body against hers.

_The rhythm of the rain against the window… That was his rhythm, _our_ rhythm._

"Oh, God, Mr. T," she croaked, desperate for him.

Blind with desire, she slipped from between her covers, into the downpour, and up the stairs to the barber's quarters.

"Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett whispered, her voice husky with lust, as she swung the door open heavily. It hit the wall with a resounding thud, drowning out the bell's welcoming tinkle.

"It's not 'Benjamin' this time?" Sweeney sneered as he stared out the bay window.

Quickly, she crossed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. Leaning her cheek on his shoulder blade, she breathed the musky scent of him in.

Sweeney stiffened as he felt Mrs. Lovett press against him, her rain soaked nightgown a sharp contrast to her hot skin.

"Mr. T?" she repeated, having already decided she was not, in fact, too proud to bed. She needed him, needed something to fuel her dreams until the next rainstorm.

Sweeney hated to admit it-refused to aloud- but he knew his body was aching for her, too. And he hated her for it. **Rain is supposed to be Lucy's! Lucy loved the rain. Lucy looked beautiful in it. Now this bloody harlot of a woman has stolen it!**

Mrs. Lovett wished desperately that Sweeney would say something-anything!-to give her some kind of indication of what he was thinking. "Mister-"

"Shut up, woman!" Sweeney growled, cutting her off as he spun on his heel and roughly pushed her into his barber chair.

Mrs. Lovett stared at him, transfixed, as he began pacing. Her fear held her in place, her brown eyes wide.

_You should have stuck with your fantasies and memories from the last storm,_the voice of reason in Mrs. Lovett's mind scolded.

_And just where were you when he took me against the wall that night? You weren't exactly scolding then, were you? You wanted this as badly as I did, so shut up,_ Mrs. Lovett told it, angry.

**She's right here!**Sweeney argued to himself. **But waiting even would night would give Lucy back her rain.**

Angrily, Sweeney struck the wall leaving the faintest hint of a hole in the wood and blood trickling from his knuckles.

Sweeney ignored his injuries, taking to pacing again. Mrs. Lovett, however, was captivated by the blood dripping from the barber's fist.

"Mr. T! You've 'urt yerself!" she took his hand in hers to inspect the damage. Shaking her head and clucking her tongue in disapproval, she ripped a strip from the bottom of her nightgown to use as a bandage for Sweeney's hand. "Ya really oughta be more careful, love," she chastised him as she fought to ignore the reason she had ventured into the rain and his shop.

But the renewed contact of her soft skin on his own had made Sweeney's decision for him. His eyes clouded over with lust and he noticed for the first time how Mrs. Lovett's soaked nightgown clung to her every curve.

"As a barber, ya really can't be 'urtin' yer 'ands," MRs. Lovett prattled on, fervently wishing that the arousal between her thighs would stop pulsating.

"Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney growled.

The difference between this and his previous growl were evident to Mrs. Lovett. Chest heaving, she trailed her hands up Sweeney's muscular arms to rest on his broad shoulders. "Mr. Todd?"

Sweeney backed Mrs. Lovett into the barber chair before hungrily descending on her, catching her mouth in a fierce kiss.

Grabbing fistfuls of his thick hair, Mrs. Lovett pulled him closer. She moaned lightly into his mouth as he trailed a hand teasingly up her outer thigh, pushing her nightgown with it.

Sweeney broke the kiss to pull the nightgown from her flushed form, Mrs. Lovett's body crying out immediately at the loss of contact.

Her breath caught in her throat as he lowed his head to kiss a trail down her neck to her full breasts. She wondered dully when he had knelt down and how she hadn't noticed.

"Mr. Todd!" she gasped, arching into his as he took one of her swollen nipples between his teeth.

Sweeney felt Mrs. Lovett writhe under his touch and couldn't help but smile slightly. Gripping her thighs roughly, his kisses dipped lower.

"Mr. Todd!" she panted, gripping the armrests as her hips rose to meet his touch.

"Oh! Fu-Uh-Uck me! Oh, Mis-Ter-To-Ah-Odd! Ah!" she moaned as Sweeney flicked his tongue across her moist opening before sucking roughly on her clitoris, her knuckles a stark white against the dark wood of the armrest.

Mrs. Lovett screamed in pleasure when he entered her unexpectedly, her head thrown back.

"Fas-Faster! Harder!" she moaned into his ear as he nipped at her collarbone. Digging her nails into the wood, she wrapped her legs around him to bring him-if possible-even closer.

"Moan for me, Nellie," Sweeney growled into her dark hair. "Nice and loud, pet. For all of London to hear!"

"Mister Todd! Mister-Fu-Uck!-Oh! To-Odd! Oh, God! Oh-oh! Oh!" Mrs. Lovett moaned, shivering violently as she climaxed.

Her walls tightened around him and he felt himself on the brink. "Just a little more, Nel," he panted, riding her orgasm roughly and making her scream in pleasure.

"Oh-My-Fucking-God! Mister Todd!"

A deep moan escaped Sweeney's lips as he released into her, drawing her screams of pleasure out.

"I love ya," Mrs. Lovett whispered into Sweeney's sweat-drenched hair before kissing the top of his head lightly, twirling his hair around one of her fingers idly.

Whether or not he heard, Mrs. Lovett couldn't be entirely sure. When he pulled out of her, though, it was gently.

_Almost lovingly?_

_Don't get excited. He doesn't love you. How could you ever compare to his perfect Lucy? He doesn't love you. Not now, not ever._

_He might. He could! Someday,_ Mrs. Lovett told that nasty voice of logic.

Sweeney pulled his trousers back on before handing Mrs. Lovett her nightgown.

"If-ahem- If you want, you can borrow one of my shirts. That nightdress of yours is ripped and soaked through to boot," Sweeney offered, leading the way to his changing area without looking meeting her gaze.

Mrs. Lovett nearly swooned- _He does care!_- before she hurried to follow closely behind.

After pulling one of his shirts over her head-_Oh! It even _smells_ like him!-_she paused. "Thanks, love. Sleep well." She kissed him lovingly before making her way back into the rain and down the steps to her rooms, leaving a stunned Sweeney behind.

He brought his fingers to his lips and brushed where she had just kissed him as he stared after her.

**I didn't think of Lucy…**

**At all.**


	3. Chapter 3

Sweeney stared out his picturesque bay window and into the rain, waiting.

**She'll come. She has to**

**She's probably already on the stars.**

He waited, expecting to hear the door slam open and hr husky, "Mr. Todd."

**She must be on her way. She has to be.**

He glanced over his shoulder at his undisturbed door, his foot tapping impatiently.

His eyes drifted across the room as memories assaulted him.

The wall he had taken her against.

**Mrs. Lovett's head thrown back in pleasure as she moaned his name.**

The slightest dent in the wall, only noticeable if you looked right at it, directly across from his barber chair.

His barber chair…

**Mrs. Lovett's nails digging into the armrests**-he could still see the faintest scratches in the wood if he looked-** as he teased her, sucking roughly at her clitoris. She'd moaned his name then, too.**

**That damned woman. She was always so damn willing to please him. She would stand there in her soaked nightgown that just **clung** to her every womanly curve with her chest bloody heaving. Or she'd press against him, her breath hot against his neck and her skin so soft against his.**

**That **damnable **woman!**

Sweeney turned briskly from all the memories of her and towards the door.

Each footstep thudded loudly against the creaky, wooden stairs as the rain came down in torrents around him. He stared in the window, searching,. He hoped she was already on her way to him but if that wasn't the case, he would go to her.

He had to. He hated her for it, for creating this weakness, for stealing Lucy's rain. But nothing would keep him from her tonight.

He grimaced, a scowl digging into his features. She wasn't on her way towards the door.

He let himself into the shop, dripping water across Mrs. Lovett's freshly cleaned floors as he crossed through to the parlor.

"Mrs. Lovett?" Sweeney breathed, his eyes constantly searching.

**Where the bloody hell is the damn woman?**

And then he heard it. A light, throaty moan coming from one of the back rooms.

He followed his ears, letting them lead him to her.

"Fuck! Oh, hell! Mr. T!"

He smiled as he tapped lightly on the door before opening it and letting himself in.

Mrs. Lovett was lying on her bed, her nightgown's ties ripped open and her head pressed back into the pillows as her fingers pumped feverishly in and out of herself. Her free hand had wrapped itself in the sheets and pulled them upward as she clawed at the headboard.

Sweeney didn't regret for a second his decision to come downstairs. This image, her eyes clamped shut as her short black hair clung to the sweat on her face, her full lips parted as she gasped and moaned his name between pants, her legs parted as she pressed desperately against her clit.

"Mmnnm!- Mister- Aaahh!- Todd!" she cried, her hips thrusting upward.

Before he could stop himself, Sweeney descended on her. He kissed her breasts as his fingers added the all-too-desired pressure behind her own.

Shivering, she climaxed, his name slipping from her lips again, "Oh, Mister Todd!"

He continued pressing her fingers harshly into herself as he kissed and nipped playfully at her neck.

"Fuck! Oh-Mr. Todd!" she gasped, trying desperately to catch her breath. "Oh, oh! Too-too much!"

She was writhing under him to a point where, when he entered her, her walls clenched around him immediately as she came for the second time.

Sweeney sucked gently at her pulse point as he pushed her hands to the headboard and forced her fingers to clench around it.

"Mr. Todd," Mrs. Lovett panted, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss the instant he gave her the chance.

"Just relax, Nellie," he breathed into her ear when her breath had finally somewhat slowed, his fingers were still clamped around hers on the headboard.

He began moving inside of her, starting achingly slow, as he trailed kisses from her jaw line to her neck.

Just from watching her, from her walls clamping deliciously around him, he was so close.

His hands left hers on the headboard as he picked up speed. He braced himself with a hand on either side of her head as she arched against him.

"Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett whispered, leaning up to kiss him as her hands wrapped around his neck.

Sweeney paused long enough to pull her hands from him and press them to the headboard again. It was a game to him. He wanted her to struggle the way he had upstairs when he had waited for her.

Her full lips pouted… Until he thrust further into her. Then her lips parted again, her eyes fluttering closed. She drew one leg up, pushing her heel into the mattress before extending it again as the other leg encircled his waist.

"Oh, Mister Todd!"

She gripped the headboard tightly as she her back arched and her hips bucked against his, her head thrown forcefully into the pillows and exposing her milky white neck. He bit roughly into her neck, tasting blood as she gasped in pain. He couldn't keep himself from enjoying hurting her. He forced himself into her completely, filling her as she cried out.

Mrs. Lovett's cried screams of pain mingled with his deep moans as he continued forcing the length of himself as deeply into her as he could. Her screech of pain broke off into a moan, surprising him.

Despite his game, he didn't stop his powerful thrusts when her hands left the headboard to clutch desperately at his back, her nails digging into his skin as they had his barber chair. At that point, he couldn't.

"Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney growled, biting back a groan of pleasure. His frenzied pace betrayed him. "Nellie."

She thrust her hips against his, feeling herself so close to that point as she saw white spots cloud her vision. "Ah! Oh, oh, oh! Mister- Oh!"

He released suddenly within her before collapsing on her, his strength failing him.

It was enough. Her head still thrown back, she moaned an unintelligible phrase before she, too, stopped moving as she panted heavily beneath him.

Mrs. Lovett was exhausted, but she refused to succumb to the sleep that called to her every time she dared close her eyes. She refused to surrender even an instant of this time that Sweeney stayed with her.

He was still inside her as he lay atop her, his breath hot against her neck. It hurt her, felt like fire, to have him still in her after the act but she wouldn't ask him to pull out even a little. She'd rather be in pain than risk his leaving.

_I love you, I love you, I love you,_ she repeated in her head. She was afraid any movement or anything on her part would startle him out of this state and he'd leave. She wouldn't risk it. But she wanted to say so much to him. _I love you, I love you, I love you, Mister Todd._

She dared to run her fingers through his thick hair as his breathing evened out. The movement made him stir slightly. She didn't even risk breathing until he settled back against her.

She lightly kissed the top of his head as she had after their last coupling.

"I love ya, Mister Todd," she breathed, her eyes drifting close despite her best efforts. _So much._

In her dreams, he responded in kind,_ "I love you, Nellie Lovett."_


	4. Chapter 4

"Stupid bloody weather," Mrs. Lovett mumbled, staring through her dust-streaked shop window at the pale blue night sky. "Rains every bloody day till I start gettin' mine when it rains. Now it's bloody clear out. Stupid bloody weather."

True, Sweeney hadn't looked at her the same way since he'd wandered into her room and caught her touching her self, his name slipping out among garbled moans, during the last rainstorm. Since then, his eyes always darkened with lust, as though he, too, were remembering that night. Unfortunately, he also hadn't come back to her room.

No, it seemed he would only play along with her when it rained and his body cried out for Lucy.

"But it wasn't_ '__er_ name 'e called when 'e was cummin' inside ya," she reminded herself, taking pride in the fact that he was always _with_ her when he was with her, never lost in memories of his Lucy.

"All good things come to those who wait, Nellie," she tutted aloud, sighing as she went back to cleaning.

It didn't matter, though. As much as she told herself to wait, her body still craved him, her thighs pounding as heat pooled between them. Each step's friction made her breath catch until she had to stop moving all together, leaning heavily against her counter and spreading her legs as much as her skirt allowed so her thighs no longer put pressure on her throbbing clit.

"Pull yerself together, Nellie!" she scolded herself, running her fingers through her hair as she panted. She rested her chin in her hand. "It's not gonna bloody rain tonight, so tha best ya can do is get yerself off with yer memories!"

She reached across the counter for her rag, the counter's edge digging into her hips and making a slight moan escape her throat. Breathless, she curled her fingers into the opposite end of the counter and pulled her hips harder against the counter, whimpering as heat throbbed within her core.

"Oh- Bloody- 'Ell," she groaned, forcing herself to swallow.

All she could think of was her Mister T, his fingers pressing her own harder against her clit as she moaned.

"Fuck!" she cried out, thrusting her hips hard against the counter again. She was whimpering again, breathless moans escaping her full lips. "Mister T!"

She could feel her body burning for its release. Her eyes flicked up to the ceiling where she could hear Sweeney pacing. She pushed herself from the counter and stumbled to the door from her shop, pulling herself up the stairs, and throwing herself through the door to his shop.

"What is it?" he barked, barely noticing the way she was panting as she looked at him with undisguised lust in her eyes.

"Mistah- Todd," she breathed, sauntering forward, her lust giving her courage.

"What?" he asked again, his attention already slipping from her as he stared out the window.

She stepped in front of him and spread her fingers across his chest, pushing him backward until the back of his knees hit his barber chair and he fell unceremoniously into it. "Mistah T," she growled, leaning over him, her face only inches from his. "It's time ta pay yer landlady." She pushed her lips hungrily to his, one hand pulling his mouth forcefully against her own as the other danced across his lap, rubbing him through his loose, tattered pants until she felt him harden under her fingers.

"Mrs. Lovett, what are you doing?" Sweeney demanded, breaking the kiss.

"You, if ya cooperate," she growled back, both her hands falling to his belt as she fumbled with it, her desire clouding her mental functions.

"Oh, for the bloody-!" she started, finally reaching for his silver "friend" and cutting through his belt before doing the same with his crisp, white shirt. She tucked the razor into her apron before descending on his chest, leaving thick, open-mouthed kisses trailing down his stomach to the bulge in his pants.

"Mrs. Lovett," he panted, digging his fingers into the armrests so he wouldn't touch her. "Stop."

She knew she should listen, that it was suicide to disobey him, but she continued, her tongue tasting his skin as her fingers worked to unzip him. She pulled his member from his pants, swirling her tongue around his tip as she traced his length with her fingertips. She opened her mouth wide, her lips forming an 'o,' as her head bobbed down. He groaned loudly as she slid his erection into her hot mouth and ran her palms across his clothed thighs.

"Mrs. Lovett," he groaned, his head tipping back.

She pulled back, looking up at him with her dark eyes as she swirled her tongue around his tip again. "Ya like that, Mister T?"

He forced himself to swallow, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Now, Mister T, I asked ya a question," she smiled wickedly, swirling her tongue around him again.

His fingers were suddenly tangled in her hair, pulling her full lips to his erection. Following his lead, Mrs. Lovett opened her mouth widely to allow as much as him as she could. He watched her head bob lower, her hair slipping from behind her ears to tickle him as she accepted more of him into her hot mouth.

"Nellie," he growled, trying to force more of himself into her mouth. She squeaked when he pulled her head closer as he bucked his hips.

She could feel him swelling in her mouth, feel how close he was. She pulled away, to his anger, to slowly pull her gauzy jacket from her arms as she backed away. He watched her hungrily as she stripped herself of her apron before pulling her tank over her head, leaving her only in her short, tight, black skirt and black corset.

"Do ya want me, Mister T?" she purred, unzipping her skirt and pushing it over her hips so it pooled at her feet. She reached down to her feet where her apron was and pulled his razor from its pocket. She ran her tongue along the length of the cold metal handle of the razor before trailing it slowly over her corseted stomach to her panties. She locked her eyes on his as she sliced through the fabric of her panties with the blade before closing it again and setting the handle at her dripping entrance.

Slowly, she slid his razor into herself, feeling the engravings as they pushed against her inner walls and she growled quietly as it filled her, determined to keep her eyes on his.

He was still watching her, his fingers twitching as he gripped the armrests. He watched her as she panted and continued moving the razor's hilt in and out of herself, picking up the pace as her head lolled back and she moaned aloud, her thighs shaking as the tip of the razor pressed against her g-spot.

"Mmnnmmmmm," she moaned loudly, leaning heavily against the wall as her knees threatened to give out. True, he wasn't touching her, but she had seen his desire to when she looked in his eyes. Besides, touching herself in front of him was better than in her lonely bedroom by herself. And it was better with his razor because it was his, because he touched it, caressed it, loved it. She brushed her thumb across her clit and cried out. She threw her head back again and she felt a dull pain as it collided with the wall.

She swallowed, trying to remember why she backed so far away from him. _Ta tease 'im._ She forced her eyes open, pulling the razor from her heat and bringing it to her lips, slowly licking the razor clean of her juices before putting almost the whole handle into her mouth, closing her eyes as she sucked on it purposefully.

"What do ya want, Mister T?" she asked breathily, the handle resting at her full lips again. She reached behind herself with her free hand to tug at the strings of her corset until it, too, fell to her feet, exposing her full, milky white breasts to his hungry gaze.

When he still didn't move as he watched her--though, she did notice, with a satisfied grin, that he was considerably harder now-- she flicked open the razor again, dragging her tongue along the flat of the blade before slipping the handle into her slick sex and moaning. "Oh, Mister T!"

Before she opened her eyes, he was upon her, pressing his lips bruisingly to hers as he pushed her fingers away from the hilt of the silver razor. She gasped sharply, her voice breaking into a deep moan, when she felt him push it further into her, her walls tightening around it.

"On your knees, Nellie," he growled, shoving her to her knees and tracing her plump lips with his erection. He groaned loudly when she opened her mouth and took him between her lips. "That's a good girl…. Keep touching yourself. I wanna hear you moan, pet."

She lowered her hand between her thighs and moved the razor slowly inside herself, feeling it pressing everywhere as it filled her. She moaned and whimpered as he pushed more of himself into her mouth, the razor's tip again at her g-spot. Her thighs trembled as her muscles clenched tightly around the hilt and she moaned around his thickness, whimpering and screaming as her orgasm crashed around her in waves. She felt him swell and release into her mouth and she eagerly swallowed, desperate for air as pleasure continued rolling through her, liquid heat from her core. She felt his fingers curled painfully in her hair as he pulled her closer before pushing her away. She slumped backwards, gasping for a proper breath as her body continued twitching. If she was capable of being angry at him, she was sure she would be livid. Instead, she looked up at him, still panting, and couldn't stop the grin that spread across her features.

He had taken her. It wasn't raining, and he had taken her, told her he wanted to hear her moaning. Surely this meant something!

_Don't hold your breath._

Sweeney's eyes flashed dangerously as Mrs. Lovett grinned up at him and she flinched instinctively against the wall, shuffling backward as she stared up at him with fear shining in her eyes.

He descended on her, pulling the razor from between her thighs as he forced her to her back and entered her swiftly. She screeched when he ripped the silver metal from her and screeched again as he set a steady pace, huffing in her ear.

"Mister T?!"

"Isn't this what you want, Nellie?" he demanded, growling savagely as he stopped moving inside her.

Her body cried out instantly and she panted desperately beneath him, her head tilting back, "God, yes!" She forced herself to nod, already feeling the pleasure coursing through her so soon after her climax. "Mister T! Oh, God! Harder!"

He pounded into her brutally and she crooned in delight, her fingers clawing at his hard chest through the slash she'd made in it. She growled, her voice lost in a moan in the back of her throat as she bucked her hips hard against his and flipped their positions so she was riding him roughly, her breasts bouncing in protest to her quick movements. He moved to flip them again, but she clenched her thighs tightly around him, forcing him deeper, as she guided his mouth to her breasts. He lost himself in her soft, yielding body, biting into her large, pale breast and making her cry out as she shuddered above him.

"Oh, G-AHH! Mister T!" she screamed, clutching his shoulders urgently as her walls contracted powerfully around his length as he released within her.

He muffled his groan of pleasure into her breasts, angry at her and at himself for what he'd let himself do with her, to her. Until then, he'd managed to convince himself-- mostly-- that he was only making love-- **no! having sex. Sweeney Todd loves no one, only Lucy and Johanna**-- with her because he missed his Lucy so much. And she was _there_! He pushed her roughly from him, frantically going for his zipper and righting himself before standing and walking over to the window.

Mrs. Lovett panted, gasping for breath, unmoving from when he had pushed her. She was laying on her back, staring up at the dingy ceiling as she blinked and forced herself to swallow, her mind forgetting normal bodily functions as it tried to wrap itself around what had just happened. When her breathing had finally slowed to normal, she forced herself into a sitting position as she reached for her clothing and pulled it on, stuffing her ripped panties into the pocket of her apron, as she stood on still shaky legs. She hovered behind him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as her fingers reached out despite herself.

"Mis-" she cleared her throat. "Mister Todd? Ar-"

"Go," he ordered, not looking at her. He couldn't. Not now that he'd taken her. He'd told himself that he wouldn't again, not after he'd stayed the night with her last time.

He expected to hear her footsteps receding before the bell tinkled brightly and she went down the stairs.

He expected her to cry, maybe, to be upset that he seemed not to care.

He _wasn't_ expecting Mrs. Lovett to step in front of him and pull his lips to her own in a passionate, loving kiss.

And he _certainly_ wasn't expecting her to nuzzle her nose against the ripped fabric of his crisp white shirt as she sighed and entwined her fingers in his as they hung at his side.

He felt like he could have been knocked over with a mere breath when she murmured a soft, "I love ya," as she placed thick, open-mouth kisses across his chest and up his neck before pressing her full lips to his in a soft kiss.

She walked away slowly, her fingers lingering on his until distance forced her to let go. She closed the door silently behind herself before padding quietly down the stairs and to her bedroom, stripping and pulling her nightgown over her head before curling under her covers and surrendering to exhaustion.

Sweeney stared after her in shock, finally stumbling to his chair and collapsing into it. He stared at the far wall and his eyes caught a gleam of silver, his razor. Wearily, he walked over and stooped to pick it up. It was still sticky from when he had pulled it from her velvet heat. He sighed as he stared out it, his brow furrowing as he fell deep into thought.

**What…. Is this I'm feeling? **He was feeling warm and fuzzy, content, satisfied. But also like he was lacking something.

If he were less adamant, less restrictive, about the emotional capabilities of Sweeney Todd, he might have realized that he was falling for Mrs. Nellie Lovett.


	5. Chapter 5

He watched her, almost hungrily, with anger pumping through his veins, blaming her for the lust he felt for her. It was her fault after all. It was her so freely offering herself to him that made him this way, made him want and crave her.

She smiled idly at a customer, money exchanging hands before she sashayed away, her short skirt tightly clinging to her firm ass and riding up to expose just a little more of her milky-white thighs to all in attendance.

He growled back his anger, watching the way the eyes of her male customers were firmly glued to her form. It made him want to claim her, to publicly show that she was his. But, no. That wouldn't do. That would make her think that he loved her. And he didn't. He hated her, hated what she did to him. His eyes narrowed dangerously when a customer knocked a plate to the floor in front of her just to watch her bend over, her tight skirt hugging her as her corset and tank fought to keep her ample breasts from spilling out. He was on his feet before he could stop himself when the same customer pinched her ass, making her squeak in surprise as she straightened and turned.

"Mrs. Lovett, 'ow's about ya let me 'ave a taste 'o the _real_ best meat pie in London?" the customer asked, pulling more money from his wallet and brandishing it in a meaningful way.

He wasn't thinking as he stormed into the shop, crazed anger shining in his eyes as she forced her plump lips into a smile and stepped closer, resting a hand on the customer's shoulder and leaning against him flirtatiously.

"Now, sir, what would me Albert say? Me poor Albert would roll over in 'is grave, 'e would," she chimed loudly, laughter bubbling up her throat. She leaned in close, her lips a hair away from the man's ear as her hot breath tickled him. Her voice was a mere whisper so only this customer would hear her. "I ain't a whore an' if ya try tha' again I'll cut yer li'l cock off. Me Albert taught me well with a cleaver, 'e did." She straightened, the smile still on her face as she looked at the customer with her dark eyes. "Anythin' else I can get ya, _sir_?"

Shell-shocked, the customer shook his head and Mrs. Lovett nimbly picked up the man's money and slid it into her cleavage before walking away, promptly colliding with Sweeney.

"Oh, Mistah Todd! Sorry, love," she stammered, her mind telling her to back up even as she pressed her chest harder against his. "I did't see ya there."

He wrapped a hand around her small wrist, dragging her away from the main shop and the many eyes of her customers. He pushed her against one of the flimsy walls, his hand going automatically for her throat and she tipped her head back in her attempt to keep air flowing into her lungs.

"What did you say to that customer? Why were you flirting with him?" he demanded, growling as he pinned her body to the wall with his own.

She was dizzy from it all, the slowed-air intake, his body pressing deliciously against hers, and his uncharacteristic possessiveness. "Mist- I can't- Can't breathe!" she managed, her fingers clawing at the wooden wall as she tiptoed.

"I asked you a question, my pet," he released her neck, trailing his fingers away from her pale throat and gliding over her heaving breasts.

"I- I told 'im I ain't a whore an' not ta- Ta do tha' again," she forced out. "I threatened ta cleave 'is cock off if 'e did." She was trembling, memories from so many midnights swarming in her mind from the way he was touching her.

He moved forward, lightly blowing to get her short, dark tresses away from her ear. "Why were you flirting with him?" he repeated, his own lust already starting to overcome him. The way her chest heaved with her fright and lust, her soft skin, her ample breasts.

"I wasn't. I jus' did't- want ta threaten 'im- publicly so I- made like I was- flirtin'," she panted, heat throbbing between her thighs. The hungry lust in his eyes as he pressed himself firmly against her was practically all she ever wanted. Her eyes caught the briefest flash of silver and she flinched instinctively, fearing for her life.

He surprised her, though, by pulling her skirt over her hips, pushing the hilt of the blade against her damp panties and along her slit, putting the slightest of pressure against her clit and making her moan deep in her throat. She tilted her head back, rolling her hips against the pressure.

_You have customers to wait on, you silly woman!_ the nasty voice of logic within her reasoned.

_Shut up!_ she growled at it. _'E's touchin' me, payin' attention to me when 'snot rainin'. So I don't give a damn 'bout any bloody customers._

He stared at her, amused and transfixed by the emotions that ran across her features; switching from pleasure to irritation before switching back to pleasure as her mouth fell open in a silent moan and she bucked her hips against his razor's handle. She curled the fingers of one hand in his white shirt, her hand a fist over his heart, as she rubbed him through his tattered pants with her free hand.

He smiled, leaning against her and breathing in her ear, "The customers, Mrs. Lovett."

He was pleased with her answer, more pleased with how quickly he could draw her into the palm of his hand.

"Bugger!" she swore, his statement making reality angrily crash around her despite her own voice of logic having said the same thing only moments before. She smoothed her skirt back down, trying to ignore the way her body was _aching _for him, before grabbing a tray of pies and rushing back into the main shop. She was blushing furiously and trying to pretend that each step she took _didn't_ make her want to run back to Sweeney and demand he finish what he'd started.

She was actually so mentally far removed that, when a friend of the earlier customer slapped her ass, she apologized for walking into him. She closed shop several hours early, unable to stand it any longer. Leaning against the counter, she cradled her head in her hands, panting heavily as her body protested the tight clothing she was wearing.

"Fuckin' 'ell," she breathed, her eyes on the ceiling. "God, why do ya do these things to me, Mistah Todd?" she asked the empty room. She ran her fingers through her hair, closing her eyes and taking a series of deep breaths. "Calm down, Nellie. Just. Keep. Breathin'."

But telling herself that keep her from leaning heavily against her counter and slipping her right hand around her apron, down the front of her skirt and into her panties, slipping three fingers into herself easily as a low whimper caught in her throat. She couldn't even deny how wet her earlier encounter with Sweeney had made her, couldn't deny the way her body was practically singing as she pushed her fingers roughly against all her pleasure points, the heel of her hand putting constant pressure on her clit.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered, her head lolling back. She covered her mouth with her left hand, stifling the whimpers and moans that were increasing in volume. She cackled quietly, laughter bubbling up her throat as her thighs shook with her coming orgasm. "Yes," she breathed, feeling it coming as her walls started contracting against her fingers. "Oh, God. Yes!"

"Couldn't wait for me, pet?" a low voice drawled, cold metal at her throat.

Her eyes sprang open, her fingers ceasing their movement. "Mis-Mistah T?" she croaked.

"You couldn't _wait_?" The razor cut into her hot skin, just enough to draw blood, enough to scare her.

"Please, Mistah T-"

"Go ahead then," he whispered as he pressed his body against hers, pushing her fingers deeper into herself and making her gasp with pleasure, her eyelids fluttering.

"Wh-" she swallowed, staring into his deep, almost black eyes. "What?"

"Go ahead. You couldn't wait. So go ahead."

"Mis-"

"Finish," he growled, putting more pressure on the blade and watching the thin line of blood overflow and drip down her neck.

She whimpered, her eyes trained on his as he stared at her heaving chest and the blood dripping down her neck before disappearing between her breasts. She started moving her fingers again, slowly, as she watched him.

"No," he breathed, pushing her hand harder against herself so that she gasped sharply. "Like you were before."

She whimpered again, moving at the pace he demanded, her fingers moving deeper as he growled in her ear, encouraging her. "Mis-Mistah T…" she moaned, almost begging him for permission. "Fuck. Oh, Mistah T! Pl-Please!"

"Finish," he whispered, his breath hot in her ear.

The nails of her left hand descended on his shoulder, digging, as she threw her head back and pressed against her clit, her orgasm washing over her as she all but screamed his name with pleasure. The blade dug into her neck just a little more as she convulsed until her shivers finally died out and she went limp in his arms, her breathing labored.

He pulled her hand from her skirt, watching her closely as he brought her fingers to his lips and sucked on them till they were clean. Her eyelids fluttered as she fought to open them, a light groan escaping her plump lips. He pushed her skirt over her hips to bunch at her waist with her apron before pushing her panties down her legs. With very little effort, he lifted her, sitting her on her counter. He freed his length from his pants, her seat on the counter putting her at the right height to allow him to push easily into her.

She whimpered, her hands going directly to his shoulders and squeezing. He pulled her hands from him, pushing her roughly to her back and pushing harder into her. Her back arched as she squealed, her fingers entangling in her own hair. Her plump lips were parted and he watched the beautiful expressions of pleasure that spread across her features as she panted heavily, every one of his movements making her arch and squeeze around him.

"Mistah T!" she purred, reaching over her head and clawing at the countertop. "Fuck! Right there! Yes! Oh, GOD! Fu-uhhhh!"

He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging painfully as he thrusted brutally into her until her screams pierced his ears. She squeezed him between her thighs as her back arched, her fingers digging into the counter and her hair. "MISTAH T!"

He was so caught up in watching her expressions and reactions that his own climax caught him unawares. He lurched forward, growling her name against her clothed breasts as he released within her and she arched and panted beneath him. Breathless, he pulled her fingers from her silken, black hair, kissing her palm messily before kissing and sucking along the light cut he'd made in her neck. She whimpered quietly, soft groans catching in her throat as his tongue glided along her hot skin.

"Mrs. Lovett…" he breathed, his hands leaving her hips to travel slowly up her sides to her ample breasts, groping greedily.

She surprised him, pulling his mouth to hers in a searing kiss. Her tongue eagerly battled its way past his shocked lips to explore his mouth as she pulled him closer by a tight grip on his neck.

He pulled away, shocked, only to have her push herself back into a seated position, hungrily going for his lips again.

"Mrs. Lovett," he growled, trying to threaten her.

"Love," she cooed, her chocolate eyes shining playfully. "You're a lot scarier when you're not _inside me_." Her hands were on his cheeks, caressing lightly as she pulled him back to her.

"Mrs. L-"

"Shut up," she purred, impatiently pressing her lips to his and squeezing him between her thighs. She could feel him hardening inside her and she subtly guided his lips to her pulse point, groaning quietly as his hot mouth traversed her supple skin. "Now- Mistah Todd- ya do- love me- just a littl' bit- don't ya?" She ran one hand down his chest, curling her fingers around what little of him was encased in her velvet heat.

"God, yes," he whispered, his breath scalding against her neck.

She whimpered, her eyes closing and her heart soaring. _He doesn't mean it.__ Shut up._ She rolled her hips against his before squeezing him between her thighs again as her hand left his cheek to grip his shoulder powerfully, her nails digging through the fabric.

He knew he had her, but he still needed _all_ of her. Hungrily, he pulled her apron over her head before shoving her ostentatious jacket down her arms and ripping it from her form. She raised her hands over her head, letting him pull her tank over her head before she was excitedly running her fingers down his chest and tugging his mouth to hers again.

"Oh, God, Mistah T," she growled against his lips, her palms running messily over his back and shoulders.

He ran his hands over her corseted stomach and breasts, his fingers tugging at the laces until they loosened. The corset finally fell from her body, exposing her pale, milky skin to his hungry touch. He ran the handle of his silver friend between her breasts, delighting in the shiver that ran down her spine as goosebumps formed in its wake. She gasped in pain when the blade cut into her porcelain flesh above where her skirt was bunched around her stomach. He swiftly cut through the material, nicking her skin lightly--nothing compared to the deep gash he'd made before slicing the fabric of her black skirt.

"Mistah T! Wot are ya doin'?" she breathed, her chest heaving. She pulled away to try to look into his dark eyes but he only pulled her flush against him, burying his face against her breasts and staining his white shirt with her blood. She whimpered and groaned when he started exploring her breasts with his lips, tongue, and teeth. "Bloody 'ell, Mistah T…" He moved his hands to the middle of her back as she arched and squeezed him between her thighs again in response to his kisses. He forced the breath from her lungs entirely when he started moving inside her, pushing deeper as he pulled her harder against his chest.

He brought his attention back to her neck, kissing and sucking roughly until his lips met the light cut he'd made. Slowly, he ran his tongue along it, making her whimper again. He roughly pushed his length further into her, grunting, as she squeezed around him, her breathing shallow and desperate. She squealed, gripping his shirt in fistfuls at the shoulder and throwing her head back, as she climaxed hard around him. He, of course, wasn't done with her yet and continued pushing harshly into her, his body rocking against hers as her squeal of pleasure escalated into a deep wail of ecstasy. She was trembling, tears slipping down her cheeks from the force of the orgasm still pulsing through her veins, when he finally reached his own climax and released within her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in the crisp fabric of his shirt as she hooked her feet at the ankles and held him closely. "Oh, God, Mistah T," she whispered, her breathing still forced. "Bloody 'ell."

He froze within her grasp, his instincts telling him to push her roughly away and do himself back up before fleeing. **I can't be here. She's gonna say it again. I have to get back to my room before-**

"Oh, Mistah T… I love ya," she sighed, her breathing finally evening out. She relaxed against him, letting herself doze.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, standing up straighter. "Ahem- Mrs.-Mrs. Lovett?"

"Mmm?" she breathed, her grip on him tightening even as she dozed.

"I-I-" he stuttered, feeling her light breathing softly against his neck. He suddenly remembered what she'd asked him not twenty minutes ago.

"**Now, Mistah Todd, ya do love me just a littl' bit, don't ya?"**

"**God, yes."**

The realization crashed around him almost painfully. He _did_ love her, and more than a "littl'" bit.

He pulled himself out of her grasp, throwing her clothes at her before doing his pants back up. "Cover yourself up," he growled, running a hand through his thick hair as he attempted to deal with his realization.

She flinched as her clothing landed in her lap, her face scrunched up as she fought tears. "Yes, Mistah Todd," she whispered, pulling her tank over her head before hopping off the counter and holding her ruined skirt around her. She squatted, picking up her panties before grabbing her corset from the counter.

"I-I-" he forced a shuddering breath. "I don't love you."

She flinched, her eyes closed as she forced tears back and bit her lower lip. "I know that, Mistah Todd," she whispered.

"I could never love you," he continued, trying to ignore the pain he felt as he watched her battle tears. "You're not Lucy. You could never _be_ Lucy. … I don't love you."

A single tear slid down her cheek before she wiped hastily at her eyes. She swallowed, "Yes, Mistah Todd."

"Lucy was beautiful, my angel. You're just-just a whore. I will _never_ love you."

She was trembling at this point, biting her plump bottom lip as she lowered her head.

"I will never-"

"Don't you think I know that?" she demanded, interrupting him and looking him in the eye. "Don't you think I fuckin' _know_ that I'll never bloody be yer precious _Lucy_?" she practically spat the other woman's name.

"Don't you think I fuckin' _know _that ya don't love me and never will? I _know_, Mistah Todd. And I _wish_ that made me stop lovin' you. I _wish_ that made any bloody difference. But it don't. I _still_ love you with every fiber of me sorry bein'. I'd still do anythin' for you, still risk life and limb." Bright tears were leaving angry tracks down her cheeks as she spoke, her whole body shaking with emotion.

"Ya don't 'ave ta tell me, Mistah T. I know." She sucked in a shaky breath before walking away, feeling like her legs were made of jelly. She closed her bedroom door behind her, releasing her hold on her torn skirt and dropping her corset and panties. She collapsed on her bed, cocooning herself in her blanket before surrendering to her tears.


	6. Chapter 6

She didn't go to him that night. Or the night after. And not for week that followed.

She held her head high, dropping off his meals with a cold nod each time before walking away. She refused to even speak to him. To do so, she knew, would mean she would break down in tears. And she refused to give him that satisfaction. Not again.

No. He'd be getting _no_ satisfaction from her. Nothing. The most she'd give him were meals and a roof.

No sex.

And he certainly wouldn't see her cry again.

And as soon as he killed the bloody judge and got his revenge, she wouldn't even be giving him the meals and a roof over his head.

There was only so much a woman could take, after all. And he'd given it all to her. Hell if she was going to take any more.

Oh, but she'd make him _want_ her. Make him want her so much it hurt. If that was all he wanted from her, she would make him want it more than anything else. She'd tease him, offering what she had no intention of giving…

She felt his eyes on her, trained on her backside as he glared down at her from his window. The corners of her mouth twitched up in a grin and she leaned down further, her breasts fighting for escape. When she looked up at the customer in front of her, she was very aware of the bulge in front of his trousers. This straggling customer from the lunch rush… He was the same customer that had asked her to play the part of a whore before…. And now she would. She would because she knew it would drive him mad to watch her flirt and solicit him.

"'Ow's yer pie, love?" she smiled, one hand on her hip as the other played with the part of her necklace that dangled between her breasts.

Open-mouthed, he nodded, his eyes trained on the way her fingers were tracing the top of her cleavage.

"Love," she purred, taking a seat on his lap and breathing in his ear. "Ya still interested in that _pie_?" She wrapped one arm around his neck as she used her free hand to guide one of his hands to her thigh.

Unsurprisingly, he nodded, his breathing already labored as she slid her tongue into his ear.

"Meet me in the parlour, then, love," she whispered, nimbly extracting herself and winking before sashaying away. She could feel her skirt riding up and exposing more of her thighs, but figured it was just as well since it would be around her waist in a few moments.

She felt an arm snake firmly around her waist, pulling her through the pie shop and to the parlour.

"Well, aren't _we_ eager," she cooed, smiling. Her smile broke, though, when she saw it wasn't the customer, but Sweeney Todd. "I don't 'ave time fer this right now, Mister Todd. So get outta me 'ouse and go back to yer shop," she said dryly.

"What in hell are you _doing_?" he seethed, pushing her against the wall.

She forced herself to purse her lips in irritation, ignoring the painful throb of her heart before forcibly shrugging him off. No, she wouldn't let herself pretend he cared. She wouldn't do that to herself.

She pointed through the door, "Get out, Mister T. I ain't got time fer yer games. So unless yer gonna _watch_, Imma 'aveta ask ya to go."

His eyes went wide before narrowing dangerously. He opened his mouth to speak before the customer she'd flirted with entered the parlour.

"M-Mrs. Lovett-?"

"Oh, don't worry 'bout 'im, love," she winked, grabbing his hand and pushing him against the wall with her body. She was glad that her time with Albert had honed her ability to fake an interest. "'E was jus' leavin'. Weren't ya, Mister Todd?"

She wanted, of course, to see Sweeney's reactions, for him to sweep her off her feet and proclaim his undying love for her… But that wouldn't happen so she'd be damned if she was going to give up this act. He called her a whore… Well, if that's what he wanted, then that's what he'd _get_.

_It's not bad enough that you throw yourself at him, now you're gonna whore yourself out to get _even_ with him? It won't make a difference, Nellie. He doesn't care_.

_Shut up! Don't matter how I feel. He wants a whore, so that's what I'll be. Anything for him…_

_Do you _hear_ yourself? You're a crazy woman! He'll never care about you! This will just cheapen you in his eyes… And your own._

She ignored the voice of reason, smiling minx-like at the customer. "Now, 'bout tha' _pie…_" she started, her hands traversing the customer's chest before her right slipped between the man's thighs to cup his length. "Ya want me 'gainst the wall or on the couch or…?" She pressed her breasts against the man's chest again.

"Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney drawled, crossing his arms.

"Oy, Mister T, ya still 'ere?" she cocked her head to the side as she spun around, pushing her rear against the customer's growing erection. "Well, I's a bit busy, so if ya wouldn't mind comin' back later?" She took the customer's hands in her own, guiding them to her hips as she ground her firm backside against him. She heard him gasp and hold back a groan.

"Love, no reason to 'old back. Imma make ya _scream_," she promised over her shoulder. She turned around to face him again, nimbly undoing his belt before taking his erection in her hand and drawing him out. "O, ain't chu a _big_ _man_," she waggled her eyebrows, working him slowly with her palms, her back to Sweeney. "Ya never answered me, love… 'Ow do ya want me?"

When he didn't answer, she decided on the wall, stopping the movement of her hand just long enough to pull her skirt up to bunch around her waist. She shrugged out of her gauzy jacket before pulling her tank out of the way. "…Love, yer a bit tall… Would ya mind givin' me a lift?" she batted her eyelashes at him, running her hands up her own sides seductively.

She was, admittedly, surprised when her customer pulled her to the floor instead, forcing her to her hands and knees before pushing her panties down to her knees and shoving into her from behind. She gasped in surprise at the feel of him moving inside her, so different from Sweeney.

So different. Cause she didn't _love_ him. He didn't make her heart ache and throb and sing and pound the way Sweeney did.

The plus side of this position afforded her the abilities of not having to see the customer pushing into her repeatedly and that of watching Sweeney's livid features as this customer claimed her.

**Mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!** **She's MINE!**

She let out a deep moan for her audience, plastering an expression of pure pleasure on her features as she rocked forward with a deeper thrust. "God, yes…" she whispered. "Yes… _Harder_."

"Call me Ben," he panted from behind her, his hands leaving her hips to run up her corseted back.

_Oh, this is just too bloody good_.

"Beeeeeeeeeeeeen," she moaned deeply, aware of Sweeney's glare. "Fuck me _harder_, Ben. Fuck me, take me, claim me… Harder, faster… Ben!"

She tried to lose herself in her fantasies of Benjamin Barker, before he'd become Sweeney. But she had to admit that Sweeney was just _too_ perfect for her. Benjamin Barker was a thing of the past. And so, too, was her ability to pretend it was him claiming her.

She was only _too _aware it was the customer as she felt his dirty nails dig into her shoulder as he came inside her with a final thrust.

But she was _nothing_ if not an actress. She forced herself to pretend she had enjoyed the sex, that she wanted more.

"Ben," she whispered as he pulled out and slumped against the wall behind her. "Ben, I wanna take ya for a ride. Can I _ride_ ya, Ben?"

Ben nodded hungrily and she quickly moved forward so she was straddling him. She accepted his length, smaller now that he wasn't hard. But, oh, she'd change that. "Ben, love, ya want me to take off me corset?" When he nodded, she obliged, pulling at the strings until they came loose before tossing it behind her--and in Sweeney's direction. "Mnnnmm," she moaned, running her hands over her breasts and squeezing them before her fingers dropped between them to stroke his base. "Ben, I'm so '_orny_. I could go fer _hours_. Ya think ya could go that long, love? Ya think ya can fuck me _'ard_ and _fast_ and _deep_ fer hours? Cause I want ya to _fuck me_ as 'ard as ya can_._"

What she _wanted_ was for Sweeney to hold her, to say that he _could_ love her and that he _did _care for her. That he'd never let her go, that he wanted her to marry him.

She could feel Sweeney watching her as she started riding the customer, thrusting her hips hard against his as she continued caressing her own breasts. She moved on him faster, letting out deep groans of pleasure that weren't at all real. "Ben! Oh, God! Fu-Oh, fuck! Ben! Yes!"

She was taken aback when a real moan escaped her lips as Ben's hot mouth latched on to one of her heaving breasts. His hands were suddenly on her hips, forcing her to take all of his suddenly very hard length.

She squeaked in pain and it only urged him on. He flipped their positions, drawing one of her legs up to drape it over his shoulder as he pounded harder into her, moaning deeply as he pushed deeply into her until her velvet heat was squeezing around him tightly.

"Fuck! Oh, shit- Fuck! Y-" she moaned, her voice breaking off in several deep gasps. "Th- Mister-ah! Yes! There!" she squealed. _This_ was something that she could pretend was with Sweeney. This delicious pain was almost like the one he made her feel.

And when she had her head thrown back and was looking into his cold gray eyes, it was even easier.

"Gonna make me scream, are ya, Mrs. Lovett? I'm gonna make you scream. Scream and plead and beg for more like the whore ya are," he growled, his fingers suddenly pressing between them to press against her clit.

_I'm not a whore!_

_You are. That's what Ben sees you as and what Mister Todd sees you as. Cause you're a whore, Nellie. That's all you are._

"Fuck!" she squeaked, her eyes shut tightly now, her back arching.

"That's right, Mrs. Lovett… Say my name, whore. Scream it."

"Fuck! Too 'ard!" she whimpered, pleasure competing with pain that was ripping through her.

"Ya said to fuck ya as hard as I can, whore. And I am. Beg me… Beg me to stop," he groaned.

She couldn't quite manage words as the white lights started exploding behind her eyes. But she did scream, a ragged wail of pain and ecstasy that exploded within her as her muscles contracted around Ben's still moving length.

But it felt all wrong. Warmth flooded her body, her core still pounding, but her heart went cold, numb. She felt used. She felt… Like a whore. And she was furious with herself, trying to keep her raw, angry tears at bay until she was alone.

She _refused_ to let Sweeney see her cry.

_No. Let 'im _think_ that I wanted and enjoyed it. Let 'im think I wanted to be claimed by this customer._

"That's right… Yer mine now, whore. Mine."

Then he stopped moving, suddenly dead weight atop her and, in her pleasure-fogged mind, she could only assume that he was spent.

Until she felt the hot liquid spraying across her neck and pale breasts. The same hot, sticky liquid that she'd dug her fingers into so many times when she'd chopped up his customers for meat.

Blood.

Warm, red blood painted her chest, staining her milk-white skin. And she knew that Sweeney had claimed the customer. And the customer had claimed her, forever his…

_No! No, I'm not. I belong to Mister T. Only to him, always him._

"Mister T! Ya didn't!" She was scolding him even before she was opening her eyes to see Ben's lifeless eyes staring back into hers. She squealed in fright, pushing him off her and scrambling away.

"Bloody 'ell! Mister T!" she growled in frustration, crossing her arms in front of her breasts as she glared up at him from her spot on the floor.

"Why?" he asked, sounding more calm than he felt. He sounded calm, looked the way he always did. But inside he was boiling.

**How **_**dare**_** she? Doesn't she know she's **_**mine**_**?**

"I don't owe ya any bloody answers. Get outta me 'ouse. Go on! Get! Go upstairs!" she ordered, her heart beating wildly.

She _almost_ dared to hope that he might care… Then she remembered their last coupling and the way he'd thrown her clothes at her and called her a whore.

_That's all you are to him: a whore_.

She vividly remembered the way his features had hardened as his lips formed the insult. She remembered the way that word had cut into her, past the flesh wounds that were still healing on her stomach, and deep into her heart.

He stared at her, rage and lust boiling within him. He swooped in, his fingers curling around her neck and making her squeak in pain, her breathing still labored from her too-recent orgasm.

Her eyes went wide and she began clawing at his fingers, trying to pry them away from her throat and their crushing grip on her wind pipe. "M-Mister-!" she gasped.

"Answer me, damn it!" he shook her, his anger clouding his mind.

She was still fighting, her red nails digging into his skin, her chocolate eyes pleading as the light behind them dulled just a little. "Please!" Her voice was barely audible as she tried to speak.

_This is it: Your love for your demon barber has finally killed you. This is the end._

Her struggling ceased, her nails no longer biting as she feebly pulled at his hands. Then she stopped altogether, resigning herself to death at her beautiful barber's hands. "I love you," she mouthed.

_If this is what he wants, I won't fight it. My life is his, it's only right to let him claim it. _

"I love you," she mouthed again, the room going dark. Not that it mattered. Her eyes had been locked on his dark orbs anyway. His dark, cold, gray-black eyes… It was that darkness that claimed her.


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing Mrs. Lovett realized was the _pain_. Ripping still between her thighs, burning and squeezing in her throat, and a cold death grip at her heart.

The second thing was the soft, warm lips on her own as they breathed life into her bruised little body. She felt the air push into her, forcing her lungs to work again. She coughed, her eyes squeezing tighter, when her lungs ached and demanded to be allowed to drag in air on their own.

The soft lips left hers, hauling her into a seated position as she sputtered and gasped for the fresh air her lungs demanded. One of her hands flew to her neck, unconsciously trying to massage feeling back into the purpling skin. She groaned softly in the back of her throat, her cries of pain demanding to be made audible. A lady of her own breeding, her other hand demurely covered her mouth as she continued coughing.

When her eyelids fluttered open, her chocolate brown orbs met the dark, gray ones she remembered so vividly. "Mister T?" she gasped, her eyes going wide. She instinctively scurried backward, her fear getting the best of her.

"That wasn't very wise, pet. You should know better than to test my temper by now," Sweeney said simply.

No "I'm sorry." No "Are you okay?" Just a cold message admonishing her for not knowing better.

_What do you expect? You're _nothing_ to him. Just a whore._

She pursed her lips in irritation, knowing she really shouldn't have expected either of those things. "Yes, Mister Todd," she nodded, her plump lips set in a hard line.

"Now, I'll ask you again, assuming you're feeling more reasonable," he started, his voice cold and angry. He stood up, pacing as he always did when he got in one of his 'moods.' "Why?"

"Why wot?" her brow furrowed in confusion. She reached behind her to pull a blanket off the settee to drape over her body. She crossed her arms over her chest, one of her hands raising slightly to return to her neck.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," he instructed, glaring down at her.

"Well, you'll 'ave ta excuse me. Someone saw fit ta choke me till I blacked out. So _forgive me_ if I don't 'member wot conversation yer tryin' ta continue, Mister Todd," she responded dryly, her lips pursing again as she looked meaningfully up at him from her spot on the floor.

"Well, maybe that _someone_ wouldn't have choked you if you hadn't whored yourself out, _Mrs. Lovett_. Maybe that _someone_ just wanted to remind you that you are _his,_" he growled, squatting again.

She shook her head in confusion, her features screwing up. Her lips formed the word "what" but she lacked the presence of mind to put air enough behind it for it to be audible.

"You. Are. _Mine,_" he repeated, leaning forward slightly so that his lips brushed against hers.

Her eyelids fluttered close again as she basked in her intoxication of the man before her. Her full lips parted as she inhaled his words. She closed her mouth, swallowing before she ran her tongue over her lips.

She leaned forward just slightly, knowing it was _madness_ to still love and want him as she did even after what he'd just done to her.

_What is _wrong_ with you, you silly nit! The man just strangled you! He nearly _killed_ you!_

_I don't care. This must be heaven. I've died and gone to heaven. He can't be sitting before me, telling me I'm his. That would be simply too wonderful. It would mean he cares. He isn't telling me this. He isn't here. He's killed me and I'm in heaven._

_Get real. You wouldn't have gone to heaven. Tighten your apron strings, Nell, cause if you're dead, that makes this hell._

His lips brushed hers again and it took every bit of her strength not to cry. She promptly dropped the sheet she'd been clutching against her, both her hands falling to his shoulders as her fingers fisted in his white shirt. One of her hands left his shoulder, gliding over his strong shoulder to caress his neck.

"Yes," she whispered, nodding. "Yours." She kissed his lower lip, sucking slightly before letting out a ragged breath. "All yours. Always yours, Mister Todd."

He pulled away from her, though. Away and out of her grasp as he stood up again, clearing his throat. "Hem, right. Yes. Well… Remember that."

He felt oddly uncomfortable as she looked up at him again with her big, strangely-innocent brown eyes, almost like she was looking through his icy exterior and reading his feelings. His lips tightened into a line and he looked away as though noticing her "cheery wallpaper" for the first time.

"Mister Todd?" she breathed, her eyes still following him. She hadn't bothered to cover herself up again. She'd admitted aloud that she was his. In her mind, that meant he could look if he wanted to and she'd do nothing to stop him.

"Mmm?"

"Does that- Do ya- Wot ya said…. Ya do care then? Bout me, I mean," she was wringing her hands nervously as she pulled them against her stomach , her chocolate orbs bearing into him.

"I said nothing of the sort, Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney said gruffly, shaking his head as he refused to meet her eyes. He couldn't. He couldn't keep the charade up if he saw the tears in her damn eyes and he knew it. "Don't put words in my mouth." **Damn that insufferable woman!**

"But ya do? Jus' a little', I mean. But ya do?" she was nodding hopefully as she climbed onto her knees. "Ya do?"

"No, I- I just don't like other people touching my things," he sighed, trying to stare a hole through the picture of her and Albert on their wedding day.

He knew it was ridiculous, but he was even mad at her late husband. True, he'd been Benjamin Barker when she'd been married to Albert, so he'd had no interest in her. But… It upset him to know that there was this man that she'd been with and for so long even if it was so long ago. And he couldn't for the life of him remember if their marriage had been a "_happy"_ one or even just a happy one, so he was competing with a ghost that he knew nothing of.

But he couldn't ask because then she'd _know_ he cared.

**And what, Ben, is so wrong with that?**

**My name is **_**SWEENEY TODD**_**. Benjamin is **_**dead**_**.**

**He's not. **_**He's**_** the man that feels so terrible for blacking out Mrs. Lovett. And **_**he's**_** the one that kept you from **_**killing her**_** in a jealous rage. **_**He's**_** the one that made you feel so terrible for calling her a whore that last time and **_**he's **_**the one that stayed with her after walking in on her touching herself. **_**He's**_** the reason you **_**love her**_**. **

**Benjamin Barker, my friend, is **_**very **_**much alive. And he has far more control over you than you'd care to admit.**

**That's not true. And I do **_**not**_** love her.**

Sweeney let out a ragged sigh. He was entirely unaccustomed to arguing with himself in this manner and he was beginning to wonder if this explained Mrs. Lovett's flights of fancy in which she would suddenly look so irritated before adopting the same look she'd had before.

"I…. I see," she nodded, chewing on her lower lip to keep her tears at bay. "Right. Well…. I best be gettin' ready fer the dinner rush then, love. And that means clothes," she forced a laugh as she pushed herself to her feet. "I'll be gettin' dressed if ya need me, love," she whispered, smiling wearily before stooping to pick up her clothing and disappearing into her bedroom.

**Now why did you let her go? **

**Shut up. You know nothing. Benjamin Barker is dead. And Sweeney Todd does **_**not**_** love Mrs. Nellie Lovett. He uses her for sex, but not love. Sweeney Todd is incapable of love.**

**Oh, you'd just **_**love**_** to think that, wouldn't you? It'd be the easy way out. To just kill the judge and beadle and then finish the spree with Mrs. Lovett? But you won't. You can't. You love her. You feel for her **_**everything**_** that Ben felt for Lucy, possibly even more strongly because you both are so much more intense and passionate than Ben and Lucy **_**ever**_** could have hoped to be.**

**You love her. And she loves you. Stop being stupid and tell her so!**

He was hovering in her bedroom door before he realized it, his feet following the instructions of his voice of logic, Ben's voice. He watched her quietly, her brow furrowing as she bit her lip and struggled to tie her corset back up. She was wearing her panties again, meaning she was clad in just her corset, panties, knee-highs, and those ridiculous shoes of hers as she leaned over her vanity and reapplied her eye makeup before running a brush through the kinks in her raven tresses. Satisfied with her hair, she pulled her tube of lipstick from a drawer, painting her plump lips a bright shade of red before smacking her lips to even out the fresh coat.

She reached aimlessly, groping with her right hand as she ran the fingers of her left through her hair and re-checked her appearance in the mirror. Sweeney moved forward silently, picking up her skirt and tank and putting them in her outstretched hand.

"Oh!" she squealed, turning around and bringing her clothing to her heart. "Mister T! Ya gave me a fright, ya did! Wot did ya need, love? Did ya want yer dinner before the rush? I don't mind, o' course. Jus' gimme a sec to pop on down to the bakehouse and I'll fix ya up a nice dinner in a jus' a tic."

She didn't continue dressing, though, just stared at him as though she'd heard his inner dialogue.

"Mrs. L-" he sighed, his hand going to his forehead. "I- _Nellie_."

"Yes, Mister Todd?" she asked, dropping her skirt and tank as she stepped closer. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

_This is it! He's going to tell me he loves me! Please, God, let this be it._

_The man nearly killed you just now, ya silly nit. I don't think a marriage proposal is at hand. And God? Isn't the man that'd help you a little further south, dear?_

_No! This is it! It has to be! I just _know_ it! All my dreams are going to come true. Me and Mister Todd, a wedding, a life by the sea…_

_Fantasies, dear. Pointless drivel. They'll always _be _dreams. He'll never return your feelings._

Her arms hung limply at her sides and she brought them up to cover her sternum to use up some of her nervous energy. Besides, her fingers were itching to make contact with him so it was really better if they were kept at bay. Her head tilted back just a little so she could look into his dark eyes despite their close proximity. Her lips parted again, just slightly, as she drew in a shuddering breath.

"Yes?" Mrs. Lovett repeated, batting her eyelids in a slightly coquettish manner.

He exhaled at length, his hands moving slowly until they rested on her shoulders. "I-"

**Say it.**

_Please say it. Please let this be it._


	8. Chapter 8

He shook his head with a sigh, turning away from her. "Nothing."

Without thinking, she stamped her foot in disappointment, her arms crossing in front of her chest as she sighed in anger.

_Bugger._

_Told ya so._

**What was that?**

**Shut up and keep out of it.**

"Something wrong, Mrs. Lovett?" he asked, turning around despite himself. He was almost amused by her childish reaction.

She was pouting, her brow furrowed. She ran her fingers through her hair again, sighing before she brought her hands to her hips. "I-No, sir. Nothin'. I'll get yer dinner as soon as I's finished gettin' dressed."

**You love her. You **_**want**_** her. Tell her and **_**take **_**her.**

Overcome with lust, Sweeney only registered the last thing "Ben" told him. **Take her**.

With a growl, he closed the gap between them and crushed her lips in a kiss, his arms going for her waist and bringing her to his level.

Mrs. Lovett squealed happily in the back of her throat, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as she excitedly returned his kiss.

_Is this really what you want from him? Just sex? You _want_ to be his whore?_

_I want ta be his _wife_._

_That's not what you are to him. That's not what you'll ever be to him. Why would he buy the cow when he's getting the milk for free? Not to mention the cheese and the butter and-_

_Shut up._

They fell against the bed, his weight crushing her deliciously.

"Oh, Mister T!" she purred, breaking their kiss and grinning widely.

"Shut up," he growled, rocking his clothed hips against hers and making her eyelids flutter. His fingers tangled in her short, raven locks and he forced her head back to expose her pale neck.

She ignored him and continued speaking, her voice somewhat strained by their positions. He was sucking at her neck, his tongue ghosting over the purpling bruises he'd made there, as her own nails dug into his neck just below his ears. "I knew ya cared, Mister T. I knew it. I knew if I could just make ya jealous, ya'd realize it."

"You know _nothing_," he snarled against her skin, angry that she seemed to have planned all this.

She froze beneath him. "Wh-Wot? Ya mean y-ya _don't_ care bout me? Not 'tall?" She pushed him back from her with some difficulty until her chocolate eyes met his cold, gray ones.

"No, Mrs. Lovett. 'Not 'tall,'" he lied, mocking her thick Cockney accent.

He leaned down again, going for her neck, but she stopped him.

"Mister T, do ya mean ta tell me tha' ya don't care 'bout me even a littl'? I don't 'spect ya ta care 'bout me the way ya did yer Lucy, but not even a _littl_'?" Mrs. Lovett asked incredulously, looking into his eyes again.

He almost told her the truth, the pain in her eyes hurt him so much, but then he remembered the way she'd moaned that customer's name in her attempt to make him jealous and anger flared within him. "Yes, Mrs. Lovett. That's _exactly_ what I mean to tell you. The only thing I care about in regards to you is what's being held up by your corset and what's between your thighs. Now shut the hell up, stupid, bloody whore."

She swallowed, closing her eyes to ward off tears as she nodded, "Yes, Mister Todd. So sorry." She bit her bottom lip, still nodding.

Sweeney tore her corset from her, throwing it to the side before leaning back and pulling her panties over her hips. He leaned over her, kissing up her stocking-ed calf before his lips met her bare thigh.

"Ya really don't 'ave ta do that, Mister T," she forced out, her voice very low so it wouldn't betray the tears forming in her eyes. "I-I mean, I'll do you, if ya want, but otherwise, let's jus' get righ' to it."

He tilted his head in confusion, his lips still ghosting over her inner thigh.

**She thinks you think of her as nothing but a whore. She'd rather be crying in peace right now but knows you want sex.**

**That's not true. She knows how I feel, insufferable woman. She said so just now.**

**And then you denied it.**

He growled in the back of his throat, prying her legs further apart before running his tongue along her slit.

"Ple-Please, Mister T," she started, her body trembling lightly in what he assumed was anticipation.

He grinned, running his tongue over her clit teasingly, his hands holding her thighs in place.

"Please, jus'- Don't," she choked out, wiping feverishly at her eyes to erase the evidence of her tears. She didn't want anything that would prolong their coupling. She just wanted to be left alone to cry. So, the sooner they finished, the sooner she could do so. "Can't we jus' get on wif it?"

He sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stared at her. "_What_?"

"I- It's not you, love. I jus'-I don't-" she stumbled, trying to find words as his cold eyes seared into her. She bit her bottom lip again, trying to make it stop quivering with the coming onslaught of tears.

"Am I not up to your usual customer standards, Mrs. Lovett?" he asked, the condescension clear in his voice as he stared down at her.

"I-" she looked away, staring at her wardrobe in the corner as she wiped the tears from her eyes again. "Sorry, Mister T. Whatever ya want."

"Because the customer is always right?" he sneered, pushing himself away from her and pacing the room. He started for the door and looked into her mirror just in time to see cover her face with her hands.

She was naked-- her pale form completely exposed to him-- and lying on her back, her knees bent and pried apart as he'd left them, as she cried as quietly as she could into her hands.

**Now look what you've done. You've reduced the poor woman to tears. And you **_**know**_** how strong she is. **

**You remember when her husband died, don't you Ben? She muddled through. Same as she did when she lost the child she'd had with her butcher-husband, and she'd lost the child so soon after her husband had died.**

**And here she is: crying. Cause **_**you**_** called her a whore. Again. Even though you **_**know**_** how in love she is with you.**

"Mrs. Lovett?" he breathed, suddenly feeling very guilty. "M-Mrs. Lovett?"

She wiped her eyes, her makeup smearing, as she gasped quietly and looked over at him. She pushed herself up into a sitting position before wiping at her eyes again. She forced a smile for him, "Oh, Mister T. I-I thought you'd left. Sorry, love." Her voice was raw with the tears still forming in her eyes. "Did-um- Did you want anythin'? Oh! Your supper! Sorry, love. I'll get it in jus' a tic."

"No, Mrs. Lovett. That's not it." He exhaled slowly, running his fingers through his own tangled mane. "I… I wanted to tell you that I don't _really_ think that you're a whore, Mrs. Lovett. I know you're not. I just-" he sighed. "I just said that to hurt you."

She briefly considered lying and saying that he hadn't but decided it would be foolish since he'd seen her crying. "Why?" she whispered, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her smeared eye makeup gave her a raccoon-like appearance as she blinked up at him, her full lips curling into a pout.

"I- Because- You-" he sighed again. "Stop asking so many infernal questions, woman!" he shouted, frustrated that he couldn't make himself tell her.

Mrs. Lovett looked down at her lap, "Sorry, Mister T." She pulled her panties back over her hips before reaching for her corset. Her hands were trembling as she tried to do up the laces until Sweeney finally pushed her hands out of the way and tied it up for her properly. "Thanks, love," she whispered, chancing a look at him as she reached for her skirt.

When she looked at him, though, he seemed mentally removed, nodding without really looking at her.

She let out a shuddering breath and looked away, standing before she stepped into her skirt and pulled it up to her hips. She leaned across the bed for her tank, squawking in surprise when he forced her suddenly to the bed and covered her body with his as she laid on her stomach.

"'Chu doin', Mister T?!" she demanded, her voice slightly muffled against her sheets.

She squeaked again when he threaded his fingers through hers and pinned them by her ears before licking just below her earlobe.

"I want you," he murmured, having convinced himself he could tell her how he felt without really saying so in words. He'd managed to convince himself that she knew that his telling her he wanted her was his way of saying he loved her.

_You're just his whore. That's all you'll ever be to him._

Mrs. Lovett forced her tears back again, resigning herself the life her voice of reason foretold. It didn't matter that this loveless sex would break her heart and tear her apart. All that mattered was his happiness and that she did everything she could to make him as happy as possible. She would hold herself together enough for him so that he didn't know how much it hurt her that he didn't return her love.

"Yes, Mister Todd," she nodded.

He rocked his hips against her rear, groaning against the back of her neck. One of his hands left hers so that he could move his hand between her body and the bed, his calloused fingers moving against her corseted stomach. He moved his palm against her clothed breast, working her skin through the fabric, as he rolled his hips against her again. His teeth found her earlobe and he bit in an almost playful manner making her squeal in response. Pushing himself off her enough to roll her over, he capture her lips in a kiss, his tongue brutally pushing against hers.

"You're mine," he growled, his razor cutting open her corset before doing the same with her skirt and panties.

_That's twenty pounds, ten shillings, and seven pence._

_A whore's expense._

"Yes, Mister Todd," she panted, spreading her legs so he could settle between them. She hissed in pain, biting her plump lower lip, when he penetrated her.

Sweeney buried his face against her neck, kissing and sucking at the bruised skin, his breathing heavy as he delivered powerful thrusts into her.

Her body rocked in time with his as she wrapped her legs around his waist, clutching him desperately as she whimpered. She ran her fingers through his hair, savoring the feel of his course hair against her fingertips.

"Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine," he was repeating with every thrust or so.

Mrs. Lovett nodded, closing her eyes. "That's righ,' Mister Todd. Yers." She lifted her head to press kisses to his shoulder, her tongue gliding along his hot flesh lovingly, as she wrapped one arm around his neck. Feeling him starting to swell within her, his pace less measured, she squeezed him between her thighs and bucked her hips forcefully. "Go 'ead, Mister T. Let go. Yer Nellie's 'ere fer ya. 'Ts okay."

"Nellie!" he choked out, his voice muffled as he sucked at her pulse point. He released within her, trembling, before collapsing on top of her.

She wrapped both arms around his neck, her fingertips playing in his ebony mane, as she cooed quietly to him in a voice just louder than his labored breathing. Her own eyes drifted closed as she bit her bottom lip again to ward off tears.

_That's a woman's role, it is._

_That's a _whore's_ role._

"I love you."


End file.
